Chapter 3 - The Secret Inside the NurseryDaniel wanted police to search the nursery.
I said no.
At least, not immediately.
That surprised him.
“You think the person is still inside?”
“No.”
Security officers had already searched the house after the unknown visitor triggered Lucas’s silent alarm.
Whoever entered had escaped through a basement window minutes before police arrived.
Nothing obvious was taken.
That was what worried me.
They had gone directly to the nursery.
They knew Lucas had hidden something.
But they apparently hadn’t found it.
Neither had the police.
“Lucas said I know where,” I told Daniel.
“Do you?”
“Not yet.”
Dr. Chen entered before we could continue.
The medications were slowing my contractions.
That was the good news.
The bad news was that I was staying in the hospital.
At least several days.
Possibly until delivery.
“You’ve experienced significant physical and emotional stress,” she told me. “Your priority now is remaining pregnant as long as safely possible.”
I almost laughed at the word priority.
My husband was dead.
My father had assaulted me.
Someone had broken into my home.
My brother might have betrayed me.
And apparently, I controlled part of an eighty-six-million-dollar company.
Yet the two most important things in my universe weighed about four pounds each and hadn’t even taken their first breaths.
“All right,” I said.
“I mean it, Emma.”
“I know.”
“No chasing criminals.”
That time I did laugh.
“I’ll try.”
That evening, Robert visited.
He brought soup I didn’t want and sat in the chair Lucas would have occupied.
Robert was forty-four, twelve years older than Lucas, with a calm voice and the exhausted eyes of someone who had also lost a brother.
“I should have called you sooner,” he said.
“About my father?”
“About everything.”
“You knew Lucas was worried.”
“Yes.”
“And Ethan?”
Robert looked down.
“Lucas suspected him.”
My throat tightened.
“Why?”
“Money.”
Of course.
It was always money.
Robert explained that eight months earlier, Gallagher Systems discovered someone had leaked preliminary acquisition numbers.
Only executives knew.
Ethan was one of seven people with access.
Lucas had ordered an internal audit.
“What did it find?”
“Nothing conclusive.”
“But he suspected Ethan anyway.”
“There were gambling debts.”
I stared at Robert.
“My brother doesn’t gamble.”
Robert gave me a sad look.
“He does.”
“How much?”
“Over four hundred thousand.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“Where?”
“Sports betting, private poker rooms, offshore websites.”
“No.”
“I’m sorry.”
I thought about Ethan’s new truck.
His expensive watch.
The vacation photos from Monaco he claimed had been paid for by a client conference.
“How did Lucas find out?”
“He paid one of Ethan’s debts.”
That hurt more than I expected.
Lucas had protected my brother and never told me.
“Why?”
“Because Ethan begged him not to tell you.”
I looked away.
Of course he had.
Lucas knew how much I loved my younger brother.
After our mother died when I was fourteen, I practically raised Ethan.
Dad worked constantly.
I packed Ethan’s lunches.
Helped him with homework.
Stayed awake beside his bed when he had pneumonia.
When I went to college, Ethan called me every Sunday.
When he married badly at twenty-five and divorced at twenty-seven, he slept on our couch for two months.
Lucas gave him a job.
Not because Ethan deserved executive status.
Because I asked.
My eyes burned.
“What exactly did Lucas think Ethan did?”
Robert hesitated.
“He thought Ethan sold information about the acquisition.”
“To my father?”
“We couldn’t prove it.”
“My father has money.”
“Not anymore.”
I turned back.
“What?”
Robert folded his hands.
“Charles Baldwin is in serious financial trouble.”
That seemed impossible.
Baldwin Development had built half the luxury subdivisions surrounding Syracuse.
My father owned commercial real estate.
He flew private.
He had married Courtney at a resort in Cabo.
“He’s broke?”
“Not technically. But highly leveraged.”
“How bad?”
“Potentially catastrophic.”
I stared at him.
Robert continued.
“A major development project collapsed. Your father personally guaranteed part of the financing. If creditors call those loans…”
“How much?”
“Possibly twenty million.”
Suddenly the forged will made terrible sense.
Charles didn’t merely want money.
He needed it.
And Gallagher Systems represented a rescue.
“What happens if he gets control of Lucas’s shares?”
“He could pressure a sale.”
“And take the money.”
“If he could legally position himself as executor or guardian of your estate, he might try.”
“Guardian?”
Robert’s expression darkened.
“Emma, did your father ever suggest you weren’t coping with Lucas’s death?”
I thought of the previous week.
Charles calling daily.
Telling me I sounded exhausted.
Asking whether my doctor thought I was “emotionally stable.”
Once, he suggested I stay with him and Courtney because I “shouldn’t be alone in my condition.”
My stomach twisted.
“He was building a case.”
“Maybe.”
“To say I was incompetent.”
“Maybe.”
I stared at the heart-rate monitors strapped across my stomach.
Two steady rhythms.
Noah.
Lily.
My father had tried to make me look unstable before my children were born.
“He wasn’t just trying to steal the house.”
“No.”
“He was trying to steal my life.”
Robert said nothing.
He didn’t need to.
The next morning, the police arrested Charles.
Aggravated assault.
Attempted coercion.
Suspected fraud.
Courtney wasn’t charged.
Yet.
Her attorney claimed she had no knowledge of the forged document.
Mrs. Ellis’s video clearly showed Courtney laughing while Charles dragged me outside, but cruelty alone wasn’t enough to prove conspiracy.
Ethan disappeared.
His phone went directly to voicemail.
He didn’t come to the hospital.
He didn’t call.
By noon, Gallagher Systems announced that its CFO was on administrative leave.
By one, financial investigators entered his office.
At two, Daniel came into my room carrying a tablet.
“You should see this.”
Security footage from our house filled the screen.
The hooded intruder entered at 3:14 a.m.
Medium height.
Gloves.
Mask.
They climbed the stairs without hesitation.
The hallway camera showed them entering the nursery.
Six minutes passed.
Then they came out.
They were carrying nothing.
But when they reached the stairs, the hood slipped slightly.
Not enough to show the face.
Enough to show a necklace.
A small gold cross.
I stopped breathing.
“What?” Daniel asked.
I pointed.
“That necklace.”
“You recognize it?”
“My mother owned it.”
Daniel zoomed in.
The cross was tiny, with a blue stone at its center.
After Mom died, Dad gave it to Ethan.
He wore it almost every day.
Daniel’s face hardened.
“That doesn’t prove—”
“Yes, it does.”
“Emma.”
“I bought the replacement chain after he broke the original.”
I looked at the screen.
“My brother was in my house.”
Daniel nodded slowly.
“We’ll give this to the police.”
“No.”
He stared at me.
“Emma.”
“Not yet.”
“You are not protecting him.”
“I’m not.”
“Then what?”
I thought about Lucas’s letter.
Don’t assume the person standing in front of you is the person who started this.
Ethan had gone to the nursery.
But he hadn’t found what Lucas hid.
And if I could discover it before he did, I might finally understand why my husband had been afraid.
“I need to go home.”
“You heard your doctor.”
“I can sit in a wheelchair.”
“No.”
“Daniel.”
“No.”
I narrowed my eyes.
He sighed.
Three hours later, against his better judgment and with Dr. Chen’s reluctant approval for a one-hour supervised visit, I returned to Hawthorne Lane.
Police tape still hung near the porch.
I didn’t look at the place where my water had broken.
I couldn’t.
Robert pushed my wheelchair upstairs.
The nursery looked exactly as Lucas had left it.
Two white cribs.
A painted moon above Lily’s.
Stars above Noah’s.
A rocking chair near the window.
And on the far wall, the wooden bookshelf Lucas had built himself.
Every room needs one secret.
I stared around.
Then I remembered the night he finished the nursery.
He had stood in the doorway, covered in sawdust.
“You’re putting the books too high,” I told him.
“No kid of mine is going to have boring shelves.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Exactly.”
At the time, I rolled my eyes.
Now I looked at the shelves.
“Move the bookcase.”
Robert and Daniel exchanged glances.
They did.
Behind it was nothing.
Just painted drywall.
My heart sank.
Then I noticed one thing.
A small wooden star attached to the side panel of the bookcase.
Lucas had carved dozens of stars.
But this one rotated.
I touched it.
Click.
A narrow compartment opened beneath the lowest shelf.
Inside was a black envelope.
A USB drive.
A key.
And a photograph.
I picked up the photo first.
Lucas stood beside my father outside a restaurant.
They were arguing.
On the back, Lucas had written a date.
April 2.
Seven weeks before his death.
Beneath it were four words.
Charles knows about Ethan.
I reached for the USB.
Daniel stopped me.
“Before we open this, police need a forensic copy.”
I nodded.
Then Robert picked up the key.
“What does this open?”
I looked closely.
A small metal tag was attached.
It contained six numbers.
Daniel went pale.
“What?”
He held the key up.
“That’s a private vault number.”
“Bank?”
“No.”
“Then where?”
He looked at me.
“Gallagher Systems.”
Robert frowned.
“We don’t have private vaults.”
Daniel shook his head.
“Not at the company.”
He turned the tag over.
Printed on the back were three letters.
L.G.B.
Robert stared.
“What is LGB?”
I knew immediately.
Lucas had once told me that his grandfather believed the safest place to hide something was in plain sight.
“Lucas Gallagher Baldwin.”
Daniel frowned.
“That isn’t his name.”
“No.”
My heartbeat accelerated.
“It was what we planned to name our first son before we changed it to Noah.”
The room became silent.
Only Lucas and I knew that.
Which meant whatever the key opened, he had created it for me.
We took the USB to the living room.
A forensic technician connected it to an isolated computer.
There was one video file.
Lucas appeared on the screen.
Alive.
Smiling awkwardly.
My hand flew to my mouth.
“Hi, Em.”
I broke.
No warning.
No dignity.
I sobbed at the sound of his voice.
Onscreen, Lucas rubbed the back of his neck the way he always did when he was nervous.
“If you’re watching this, something went wrong.”
The smile vanished.
“I need you to know two things. First, I love you. Second, my accident may not have been an accident.”
No one in the room moved.
Lucas leaned closer to the camera.
“Three weeks ago, I discovered someone had accessed the maintenance records for my car.”
My blood turned to ice.
“The account belonged to Ethan.”
Robert whispered a curse.
Lucas continued.
“But Ethan wasn’t the one who requested them.”
Then he held up a printed email.
“The request came from Courtney Baldwin.”
My father’s wife.
The woman who had laughed while I fell to my knees.
Lucas looked directly into the camera.
“And Emma, if anything happens to me, do not confront her.”
He paused.
“Because I don’t think Courtney is working for Charles.”
The video cut to black.
And at that exact moment, Courtney called me.
I stared at her name flashing across my phone.
May you like
Then a text appeared beneath it.
If you want to know who killed Lucas, come alone.
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